“…There were incidents and accidents,
There were hints and allegations ..... “
- You Can Call Me Al,
Paul Simon
“…My, but we learn so slow
and heroes, they come
and they go
and leave us behind as if
we're supposed to know why
Why do we give up our hearts to the past?
and why must we grow up so fast? -
Pretty Maids All in a Row , J. Walsh and J. Vitale
It was a slow day, one of those Simon days of wonder. Thirty-three
years to the almost exact minute since the lonely pilgrim crossed the finish
line of his long distance run. It wasn’t over as the real race had just begun. Back
then the master mechanic departed without warning ( just days before the marathon
and has been absent for any advice ever since.) Many Ash Wednesdays have come and gone. Just because the prayers were not immediately answered the priest said it didn’t mean
that they were not on file for consideration.
If you could listen closely one could hear a voice singing
out breaking through the darkest silence of the suburban night ….
“I am giving up hope for Lent this year…yeah,yeah,yeah”
He could see his past like some Kevin Burns documentary
- heading down the river to Graceland writing letters with a melancholic song in
his heart. But then man made monuments are often always disappointments. White bronzed
statuettes of the self-proclaimed king surrounded the snow globes with almost
imperceptible caped figurines lost inside. Everywhere he planned to go for redemption seemed more glorious in his
dreams. His grasping for any thing left him with nothing. He would often find himself stuck outside
of Mobile again with the
Memphis blues.
Someone once said sometimes on slow days miracles happen. A sweet
shining sunbeam slipped through the perpetual winter cloud cover like some reverential spotlight ahead
of each step he took as he wondered round the lake. The intermittent confetti snowflakes glittered like
angelic dust blessing him as he processed on with his canine
companion. The eyes closed as he stopped to feel the power of the warmth
and the shimmering cold flakes simultaneously caress his essence. Each moment of grace of his salvation history became
crystal clear all at once.
Smiling that mischievous smile he gratefully muttered
“No angels with stop watches were ever observed along the
way.
It’s never been about the speed but how the race is run,
right?”
He continued his stroll singing out "If I can call you Betty...."
amdg
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